


Shared Pain

by Kalira



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Brothers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29280699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalira/pseuds/Kalira
Summary: The Uchiha brothers watch helplessly as Tobirama grows steadily weaker under the assault of a crude, yet deadly fuinjutsu, knowing there is nothing to be done to save him - even the bond of soulmates can do no more than delay the inevitable.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Senju Tobirama
Comments: 8
Kudos: 74
Collections: Valentine's Spectacular (2021)





	Shared Pain

“Where is he? Where is my otouto?” Hashirama cried, taking out one of the doorposts with his shoulder as he crashed inside.

Madara jolted to his feet, then whirled again as there was a sharp cry from the back room.

“Tobi!” Hashirama was already running, and Madara ran after him.

“You should have brought an iryou nin! Or maybe that fuinjutsu witch of yours!” Madara scolded, grimacing. “He _needs_ help, not-”

“They’re coming.” Hashirama tossed out as he shoved into the back room where Madara and Izuna had been taking it in turns to restrain Tobirama as he either thrashed in agonised silence or, very rarely, when it grew too much, screamed in pain.

Madara had _hoped_ to spare his best friend from seeing his brother like this, but . . . well, nothing would have kept _him_ from his own brother when he was hurting so badly. He wouldn’t even try to keep Hashirama away.

“Tobi!” Hashirama cried, already sobbing as he caught hold of Izuna by the nape and threw him aside.

“Hey! I wasn’t hurting him!” Izuna protested as Madara hurried to him, hauling him up. “I wouldn’t!”

That was true enough; not any _more_ , in any case. Madara despaired sometimes over how close Izuna and Tobirama had become, and while _he_ was fairly sure it wasn’t true, he’d heard numerous whispers speculating about the nature of their relationship.

“I’m here, Tobi!” Hashirama grabbed at his brother, sliding a hand up his arm to his collarbones, catching him as he jack-knifed upwards.

“He’s not going to notice-” Izuna cut himself off, grimacing.

“He’s out of it, Hashirama.” Madara said firmly, but as gently as he could. “He hasn’t responded in. . .”

Tobirama was quieting in his brother’s arms.

“That jutsu doesn’t wear off and it doesn’t have a counter.” Izuna said softly. Even if Hashirama truly _had_ brought Senju iryou nin or his fuinjutsu witch, the chances that they would be of any help were . . . painfully slim. Izuna, like Madara, had seen too many members of their clan die in screaming madness from the unrelenting pain; minds cracking, bodies giving out under the strain. Sometimes in pairs, as their soulmates tried-

Madara’s eyes widened as he noted the tremors now running through Hashirama’s body, the easing in Tobirama’s. Hashirama collapsed onto the bed, the muscles in his arms bunching as he held his brother tight.

“Soulmates.” Madara said, holding Izuna a little tighter as he muttered.

“Only one thing even helps.” Izuna said, watching the Senju brothers.

Hashirama crooned, his voice shaking and thin, rocking with Tobirama in his arms. He was beginning to cling in return, showing a spark of awareness that had been lacking for hours as his fingers curled into his brother’s hair.

“Did you know?” Izuna asked, and Madara shook his head, patting Izuna’s back. He swallowed. “We’ll only lose them both.” he added wretchedly.

“He won’t stop, though.” Madara said, biting his lip. Not that any of the soulmate pairs among the Uchiha had been willing to stop, either. “He said the iryou nin and- Mito. He said they’re coming.”

“It’ll take longer, with both of them.” Izuna said dispassionately. Madara looked at him, shocked, only to find a deep, horrified pain in his eyes.

Madara suddenly wondered if he’d been wrong, if his brother _was_ in love, or if he and Tobirama had. . .

“Izuna?” Madara asked gently, reaching out to him.

“He’s my best friend, Aniki.” Izuna said, barely a whisper. “I refuse- I can’t- He needs to be all right.”

Madara’s throat tightened. That was _his_ best friend now sharing in the pain of the torture jutsu; they would be lost together if the Senju iryou nin - or the Uzumaki fuinjutsu mistress - didn’t have some way of breaking this jutsu. Some way the Uchiha had never found.

Madara hugged Izuna tighter, then released him reluctantly, and they moved to do what they could to help the Senju brothers. It wasn’t much, and Hashirama was sinking out of responsiveness already. Madara fought down nausea, helping Hashirama lie down and keeping the pair of them wound together.

Madara thought they couldn’t have parted Tobirama from Hashirama if they had tried; Hashirama’s arms were locked around his brother, and Tobirama’s hands were curled tightly in Hashirama’s hair and clothes in return.

They both whined thinly from time to time, and it made Madara’s chest ache.

“Where is he?”

A sharp voice, only half-familiar - Madara hadn’t known Mito’s voice could grow so loud or demanding. “Where is Tobira!”

“This way, Uzumaki-hime.” Hikaku said, footsteps coming rapidly closer.

Mito rushed into the room ahead of Hikaku, taking in the tableau. “What happened? Hashirama said something about _torture_ , pain rooted in a jutsu?”

“It’s anchored by a rudimentary seal, but we’ve never managed to break one.” Izuna said, moving closer as Mito moved up to the bed, running her hands over both men. “It- It kills-”

“Unrelenting agony breaks everyone, eventually.” Madara said flatly, drawing his shoulders back.

“Hashirama is helping Tobirama to bear the pain.” Mito surmised, showing no surprise.

“The soulmate sharing is the only thing that _can_ help, even a little.” Madara said, eyeing Mito. “But it only delays the inevitable . . . and ensures that they share each others’ fate.”

“They will _not_.” Mito snapped, a furious look as fiery as that of any Uchiha kunoichi Madara knew rising in her eyes. “Tell me everything you know.” she ordered, smoothing her hands over Hashirama’s hair, and then Tobirama’s brow, resting a hand on each of their heads.

Neither Madara nor Izuna were of a temperament to follow orders - but neither of them so much as hesitated to obey, not for this. They told her everything they knew - everything they could think of, from watching a dozen of their clanmates succumb to this torturous death.

The iryou nin Hashirama had said were coming as well arrived an hour after Mito, and she ordered Madara and Izuna out of the way as they began to work. Neither of them wanted to leave, but. . .

“You cannot help and you will only be in the way here.” Mito said, not harsh but brooking no argument, and they retreated. Hikaku remained to be at hand for fetching anything she might need; when he darted out and returned he sent Madara and Izuna sympathetic looks but didn’t stop to tell them anything.

Madara didn’t try to call him to stop, didn’t want to slow Hikaku - and thus Mito - down, not while they were working on something so important. Instead he just. . .

Madara curled himself around his brother - not unlike Hashirama had when he first reached Tobirama’s side, he thought painfully - and held Izuna tight as he whined softly, not protesting the knots Izuna was working into his hair, clutching at it restlessly. Mito was brilliant, Madara told himself - and Izuna - if anyone could fix this. . .

 _If_ anyone could.

No one ever had before and Madara tried his hardest to hope, but . . . he’d never been so good at holding on to it as Hashirama.

And now he might _lose_ -

“You can come see them again.” Hikaku interrupted his thoughts, and Madara was on his feet in a heartbeat, Izuna moving along with him, already darting ahead.

Madara followed swiftly. “Is he- Are they. . .” He looked at Hikaku worriedly.

“I _never_ want to make that woman angry at me.” Hikaku said quietly. “I’d almost be willing to lay odds she’s a minor kami, not a kunoichi.”

Madara stared.

Hikaku smiled. “They’re not great, but the jutsu is gone. Mito-hime promised to simplify the method she used and- and teach it to anyone who wants to learn, even in our clan.” His voice wavered and his eyes were damp, and Madara moved to pull his cousin into a hug, steadying him.

Hikaku’s sister had died with her soulmate three years ago, and Madara would be shocked if he wasn’t the first one begging Mito to teach him how to break that thrice-cursed jutsu. Madara owed her a very large debt of gratitude if she had not only invented such a method but was willing to share it so freely.

Hikaku returned the hug, slightly shaky, then pushed him away. “Go on.”

Madara paused just long enough to cup Hikaku’s cheek, then squeeze his shoulder bracingly. Then he hurried onwards, able to hear Tobirama’s deep voice - sharp as ever, but rough and less precise than usual - before he reached the door and feeling another wave of relief.

He stepped inside to find Tobirama leaning against his brother’s chest, fending off Izuna’s smothering attempts to get close with ineffective movements that Madara couldn’t quite identify for sure between weakness from the torture he’d been through or intentional tolerance of Izuna’s affection.

Izuna was pushing his luck for all he was worth, though, invading Tobirama’s space and making a dramatic show of his feelings to hide behind. The curl of Tobirama’s fingers in his ponytail made Madara suspect it was affection of his own letting Izuna do so.

Hashirama didn’t object, but he also hadn’t so much as loosened his grip around his brother - his soulmate. Madara crossed to the bed and slid a hand over Hashirama’s shoulder, and he looked up, smiling despite the taut lines of pain and strain lingering on his face.

Madara took a move from his brother and slung an arm around Hashirama’s shoulders, leaning in close to hug his best friend. “Don’t _ever_ do that again, both of you, or I will make you wish I’d gutted you.” he growled in Hashirama’s ear.

Hashirama whined and Tobirama laughed, and Izuna settled on the edge of the bed, clinging to Tobirama’s forearm. Madara shook his head, raising his gaze to Mito where she stood near the wall, neatening a stack of paper and brushes and looking at the bed with a faintly fond expression.

Madara lingered with the Senju brothers for a while longer but . . . they were clearly exhausted. He hooked Izuna by the nape. “We should let them rest.” he said firmly when Izuna whined poutily. “And,” he glanced at Hashirama, then Tobirama, “have some time alone.”

Izuna stopped mid-protest, looking back. “Ahh. . . Yes.” He slipped Madara and hugged Tobirama again. “I worried for you. I don’t like it. _Don’t do it again._ ”

Tobirama laughed, returning Izuna’s hug this time, and then they left the two alone, Mito slipping out along with them. Madara glanced back before closing the door and found Tobirama curling into his brother affectionately, Hashirama peppering kisses over his face.

Though he still looked drawn, Tobirama was smiling, eyes closed and fingers trailing over Hashirama’s shoulder, and Hashirama was wrapping himself around his brother needily. Madara’s heart eased a little, and he closed the door, turning away.

Izuna had already disappeared down the corridor, probably to fuss at someone over getting a meal ready for them, if not a more comfortable room to rest in. Izuna didn’t handle worry well, _doing_ something would help him come down from it more easily. Mito was watching Madara with sharp, impossible to read eyes.

Then she turned away with a silent flutter of silk, ghosting out of sight.

Madara followed, finding her on the engawa at the back of the house, looking out into the night. He tilted his head.

“If I ask you what you are to him - to them - will you murder me?” Madara asked. She might even be capable; Madara had felt her chakra, a raging, tightly-controlled ocean that rivalled Hashirama’s for strength, despite the blatant differences between the feel of one from the other.

She was also sneaky and vicious and _inventive_. Madara would not like to antagonise her. Too much.

“I am fond of them.” Mito said softly, and Madara thought _you love them_ because he had _seen_ her when she arrived, seen the ferocity in her determination to save them, and no Uchiha ever loved harder to fight fate. “One day they may be my family . . . but they have been my family for years.”

Madara’s brows rose, and Mito smiled faintly.

“Touka.” she said softly, and Madara’s eyes widened.. “Everyone assumed, when I came, that it was for Hashirama. I allowed the misconception. Hashirama never noticed. Tobirama thinks it is amusing and that people are idiots. Touka intends to make it a dramatic undercut one day. If she wins me.” She smiled sharply.

“No insecurity?” Madara asked before he could stop himself, not that he really thought it _likely_ , but _he_ would have hated it like poison to see people assume _his_ soulmate was courting another.

“Nothing and no one could ever come between them.” Mito said serenely. “Not even you, Madara-san. Though you, perhaps, came closest.”

Madara wondered if she knew how much even the suggestion of that wrenched his heart. “I never would have-”

“No, I expect not.” Mito said more gently. “Simply accept that they are a pair, and all will be well.”

“Of course they are.” Madara said blankly, thinking of them curled up together, aching and exhausted and clinging to one another with desperate, devoted need for that contact between them. “That’s obvious. They couldn’t be anything else.”

Mito tilted her head, a faint smile curling her lips. “I might have to like you, Madara-san.”

“I find that almost as terrifying a prospect as you deciding I need to be taught a lesson.” Madara said dryly. “But thank you.”

Mito laughed and Madara smiled slightly.

* * *

“I’m so glad you’re all right, Tobi.” Hashirama said as the others left them alone, his voice thick from crying. “My Tobi.”

Tobirama closed his eyes, nuzzling into his brother, twining and retwining their fingers, leaning back into Hashirama’s chest. “Me too. And _you_ too.” he said, tipping his head up and kissing Hashirama’s jaw.

Hashirama’s arms tightened around him, and Tobirama let himself be squashed affectionately. He still ached, _everywhere_ , but that wasn’t going away for some time, and Hashirama wasn’t _really_ making it any worse.

“You. . .” Tobirama sighed, grip tightening on his brother’s hands, drawing them up his chest. Hashirama’s embrace shifted but didn’t ease.

“I would do anything for you.” Hashirama said, and Tobirama knew it would accomplish nothing to point out how very much more important Hashirama was than himself, to their clan - to the world he was fighting to change.

He remembered Hashirama, sobbing, kneeling at his side and cupping his face just shy of the now-dramatically-scarred wounds that had laid it open. The touch that had eased his pain and the shocked gasp from Hashirama.

Many years ago. But little had changed, in some ways.

“I know.” Tobirama said softly. Hashirama had refused to leave him for three days, then. They hadn’t admitted why, to anyone, and it had earned Hashirama a beating from their father, and brought the first time Tobirama took _his_ pain, so soon after.

“Always and forever, Tobi, my Tobi, my beloved.” Hashirama murmured, and Tobirama smiled slightly, leaning into his brother’s embrace and shifting up enough to demand a kiss.

Hashirama gave it, as lavish with his affection as ever, and Tobirama purred at the contact. Hashirama might be more important, might be more _needed_ \- though Tobirama was well aware his planning kept his brother’s dreams alive - but Tobirama was not, quite, selfless enough not to glory in that devotion from him or try to dissuade him of it.

“Always and forever, brother mine.” he breathed against Hashirama’s mouth as they parted.

No matter who knew, now, because who could hope to protest against them?


End file.
